


Dysteleology

by carolinecrane



Series: Aftermath [18]
Category: The Brotherhood 2: Young Warlocks (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-05
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of different kinds of denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dysteleology

The no smoking thing lasted about three weeks. He was fine for the first two weeks; he thought about it every once in awhile, sure, but the cravings weren't that bad and he didn't really get why everyone made such a big deal out of quitting. Until he reached the middle of the third week, and after glaring his way through two days' worth of classes and picking fights with Harlan over nothing, Harlan practically forced him to start smoking again.

That was what he told himself, anyway, mostly because it sounded better than admitting he couldn't quit. He wasn't even sure he really wanted to, so when Harlan showed up with a pack of cigarettes – the right brand and everything – and a new red lighter that matched the paint job on his car Marcus took them and did the only thing he could do: he lit up.

Which is why he's standing in the shade of one of the big trees on the lawn, bark scratching at him through his jacket as he inhales, closing his eyes for a few blissful seconds before he exhales a thick white cloud of smoke. And he's not really waiting for Harlan, but he knows exactly where Harlan's last class is and he knows this is the route he takes to get to the gym after school, so it doesn't hurt just to stand here.

When he opens his eyes again he half expects to find Harlan watching him with that knowing grin. Only it's not Harlan standing on the path a few feet away, watching him lift the cigarette to his mouth for another long drag. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, finally releasing it and shifting against the tree before he acknowledges the person watching him. "Hey."

"Hey," Matt echoes, looking every bit as awkward as Marcus feels and for a second he wishes he'd kept his eyes closed until Matt walked away. They haven't spoken since Matt found out about him and Harlan, and even if Marcus wanted to try Matt's been avoiding him. So he's not really sure why Matt didn't just turn around and go back the other way when he saw Marcus, but he's still standing there and when Marcus glances down he sees the duffel bag sitting on the path at Matt's feet.

"Your folks coming to get you?"

"My old man should be here in a few minutes," Matt answers, glancing toward the parking lot and part of Marcus wishes he'd just go. For a second Marcus thinks he might, but then Matt clears his throat and turns back to him. "So are your folks planning on keeping you locked in your room the whole break?"

He doesn't want to have this conversation, because he already knows exactly what Matt's going to say. Not that it's any of his business anyway; it's not like they're friends anymore, not after Matt made it pretty clear that as long as Marcus was with Harlan Matt didn't want anything to do with him. He thinks about lying, making up something about taking a cab to the airport in the morning, but instead he pushes himself off the tree and drops his cigarette on the grass to grind it out under his heel.

"I'm not going home."

And he has to give Matt credit, because it hardly takes any time at all for the confusion to fade into comprehension, and from there it's a short trip to what Marcus can only guess is disgust. "Jesus, Marcus. Don't tell me you're going home with Harlan. You know what people are saying, don't you?"

He hasn't heard what people are saying – they haven't said any of it to his face, after all – but he's spent plenty of time imagining it. He's smart enough to know that it's not so much 'Marcus is a fag' as 'Marcus is with _Harlan_ ', and the funny thing is that a few months ago that would have rocketed him up the social ladder. Only now Harlan spends all his time with Marcus, and the rest of the popular crowd is either gone or dead.

He flinches at the thought, pushing images of Alex and Randall and Trini as far back in his mind as he can get them. "It doesn't matter."

"So you don't care that the whole school thinks you're Harlan's bitch."

"It's not like that."

"Yeah? So what's it like?"

Marcus opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again when he realizes he has no clue what to say. It's not like he can tell Matt how wrong they were about Harlan, how nice he is and how cool he is to hang out with. Because he's _not_ a nice guy, not really, but he's Harlan, and there's no way Marcus could explain that. There's no way he could make Matt understand why he likes hanging out with Harlan, because he's still kind of a bastard and he still thinks a lot of himself, but that's just part of what makes Harlan…Harlan.

He doesn't know how to explain that he doesn't care what anyone thinks, that even if he did all it would take was one touch from Harlan and he'd forget all about it. He can't tell Matt about the hours they spend just kissing, can't describe the smile Harlan only smiles for him. The one he saw even before Harlan kissed him the first time, back before Luc and the showers and Alex. He wants to tell Matt that that's how he knows Harlan's not just screwing around, but he knows Matt wouldn't get it.

He's still searching for something he _can_ tell Matt when an arm slides around his shoulders, and Marcus doesn't have to look to know who it is. He's not even surprised, because Harlan's always had really good timing and Marcus is just grateful he showed up now, before either of them brought up Alex or Randall or Headmistress Grimes.

"Hey, Slayton. Haven't seen you around much."

Marcus glances over long enough to see that Harlan's grinning, a hint of challenge in his eyes and he's seen that look plenty of times too. Saw it that day in the showers just before Randall and Alex pinned him against the wall, and Marcus swallows hard against a shudder. Instantly Harlan's grip on his shoulder tightens, and Marcus isn't sure if he felt the shudder or if this is all just some weird territory marking thing.

And he has a feeling the thought of being Harlan's territory should bother him, but instead it just makes him want to get Harlan alone.

"Yeah, well, you've been busy," Matt finally answers, and when Matt glances pointedly at him Marcus can't help flinching at the words he doesn't say. _Busy fucking my best friend_ , or maybe just _busy letting Marcus ruin your reputation_. And he knows he should be embarrassed – ashamed, even – but instead he just wishes Matt would drop it and walk away.

Harlan laughs at that, low and amused and his breath warms Marcus' ear. It makes Marcus wish they were already back in Harlan's room, that they'd blown off the last class of the day to get an early start on spring break. He wishes Matt had kept walking when he saw Marcus, wishes he'd waited for Harlan at the gym where they usually meet instead of hanging out on the quad in the hope of seeing him just a few minutes earlier.

And he feels guilty for wishing Matt would just go away, but the whole situation is completely fucked up and it's not like they can fix it now. He's not even sure he wants to, because he misses hanging out with Matt, sure, but not enough to give up Harlan.

"You should probably get going," he says, feels his cheeks flushing at the sound of his own voice and hopes neither of them will notice him blushing. "Your dad's waiting, right?"

"Yeah," Matt answers, gaze shifting to Harlan for a second before he looks at Marcus again. For a second he thinks Matt's not going to take the hint, but then he leans down and picks up his duffel bag and Marcus has to swallow a relieved sigh. "Guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you," Marcus calls after him, but Matt's already halfway down the path by the time he finds his voice and when he doesn't look back Marcus tells himself it's for the best. And it is, because Matt belongs to a part of his past that he'd just as soon forget. They'd be better off if they both forgot everything that happened, and if that means pretending they don't know each other anymore it's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

"What the fuck what that about?" Harlan asks, arm still tight around Marcus' shoulders and when Marcus glances at him he's frowning in the direction Matt disappeared.

"Nothing."

"You sure? Because it didn't look like nothing."

He hears the jealousy in Harlan's voice, but he can't even enjoy it because he knows if Harlan had been just a few minutes later he would have heard things he doesn't want to know about. Things Marcus probably should have told him a long time ago, but every time he thinks it he tells himself that he already tried. He tried, and Harlan didn't believe him, so that means he doesn't want to know the truth.

Most of the time he can even believe that.

"It was nothing," Marcus says again, shrugging out of Harlan's grip and taking a few steps toward the path. "So are we going running or what?"

For a second Harlan just looks at him, and Marcus can tell he's not really buying it. He can practically see the wheels turning in Harlan's head, hears all the questions he hasn't asked, even though they both know there's more to the past few months than either of them have said out loud. He braces himself for the questions he knows he can't answer, but just when he's telling himself that this is finally it, Harlan shrugs and nods toward the parking lot.

"What do you say we blow off the run and go back to my place?"

"I left my stuff back in my room," Marcus answers, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the dorm and there's a part of him that wants to forget about the bag he packed so carefully the night before and just go back to Harlan's house. To his room, his bed that Marcus misses when he's sleeping alone in the dorm. He wants to get Harlan alone before he changes his mind, before he starts asking questions Marcus doesn't know how to answer.

"So let's go get your stuff," Harlan says, arm sliding around Marcus' shoulders again to steer him toward the dorm. And he's not sure if this is Harlan's way of avoiding a subject neither of them want to talk about, but Marcus isn't about to argue.


End file.
